The Next Chapter
by mysticmelodies1
Summary: It's not easy letting go. But it helps if you have someone there to catch you.


"Stop thinking…" he presses a light kiss to the side of her neck.

She pauses mid-sip, gently lowering the glass again. "Who says I'm thinking?"

"I can practically hear the wheels turning in your head." She adjusts her position, making herself more comfortable before reclining again, settling herself gently against his chest. "Tanner said he would handle everything and you know Eve will call you if something goes too terribly wrong. You can trust them."

She sighs, nuzzling against his cheek, and allows herself to relax momentarily. "I know. You're right."

He feels her body tense again and just barely manages to stop himself rolling his eyes.

"I just can't help feeling like something's wrong. You saw how readily they shooed me off on this little holiday..."

"Because you needed it. You've more than earned it. You work hard. Actually getting you to stop working and take the time you're due is an entirely different story…"

"Well the chaos isn't going to magically come to a halt just because I want to prop my feet up, is it?!"

"It'll all go on if you're there or not. You've got a capable team who you've trained well. You've got a private helicopter at your disposal should a situation arise…"

"I've got an agent who threatened to have several people shot if they interrupted my holiday. So if something does come up, they probably won't call, and I probably won't know about it until I hear it on the nightly news..."

"If you keep this up, you'll be able to add high blood pressure to the list of 'things you've got'. You really think sitting here worrying yourself silly is going to make anything better?"

She huffs. "I know that. Logically, I know that. It's just that-"

"I know. Mallory's been hounding you."

She sits up and moves away from him under the pretense of pouring herself another glass of wine, but he knows she's afraid. She was always so strong. She still isn't comfortable being vulnerable around anyone. Not even him.

"Mallory, the PM… it feels like everyone wants me out of my office. They're just waiting for me to slip. Waiting for some little error which will prove my senility and then they'll put me out to pasture where I'll be pushed down the corridor of some old people's home. Knitting jumpers for non-existent grandchildren and trying to find out how many of the old girls will be joining me for bingo."

He shakes his head and chuckles quietly to himself at the thought. "You know that will never happen."

"It may as well. What else will I have to look forward to?"

"Come on, Liv. This isn't you. You've done a damn good job as M."

She gives a mirthless laugh. "Have I?"

"Yes. You have. And you know it. 'Regret is unprofessional', remember?"

Her gaze shifts downward to the glass in her hand, and as she stares down into the crimson colored drink she wonders how much blood had been spilled because of her. More importantly, she wonders how many people she could have saved.

One particular agent comes to mind, but she closes her eyes and forces the thought of him to the back of her brain.

He is no longer the man she knew then.

He is no longer anything.

He's dead.

But somehow it doesn't feel like her battles are over.

"_He's gone, Olivia_."

Her eyes snap open to meet his. She doesn't bother to ask how he knows. He reaches out to hold her hand, not necessarily to draw her back into his arms (though he can't help feeling that's where she's safest), but to let her know that she can trust him.

"He's gone." He whispers again. "It's over."

She looks back down at her wine and shakes her head. "No it isn't. Not just yet."

"What do you mean?"

"I know I can't go on forever. Believe me, I know that. But all this waiting is driving me mad. I'm used to being one step ahead, but now…" She bites her lip, taking a deep breath to steady herself lest the tears start to flow. "I hate this. This feeling of it being _nearly_ over… not knowing what happens next. I mean, I'm sure I'll be alright once it's all done and dusted, but until then, what am I supposed to do?"

He can see her fingers trembling as she grips the glass tighter and he keeps his eyes glued to her hand, for fear the whole thing will shatter in her grasp.

"I've been at this job for over 40 years, it's not some switch I can turn on and off at leisure. How will I sit down to breakfast and see the front page of the paper, knowing there's far more than they're letting on… knowing I'll never know the full story again?"

She takes a large gulp of merlot before pushing the glass away from her and leaning back against the couch.

"I worked damn hard to get this position. I know it's selfish of me, but I don't want to give it all up now."

Her eyes turn to steel and she stares into the dying fire.

"This is my life's work. This is my life. They won't take it from me. Not like this."

He swirls his scotch around the tumbler a few times, turning the thought over in his head before daring to voice it aloud. He knows he has to choose his words very carefully.

"Maybe…" he starts slowly. "Maybe you shouldn't look at it as taking anything away. Maybe this is just…" he shrugs. "…starting a new chapter. Who's to say it won't be just as good as the last?"

She sighs. "I don't know. I honestly don't know anymore. And it scares the hell out of me."

Her voice breaks and he can tell it's taking all her strength not to crumble in front of him.

Part of him wishes she would. Wishes she would allow herself to trust him fully. To forget M for a while and just be Olivia.

His Olivia.

He puts his glass on the coffee table and moves across the carpet to hold her again. He pulls her into his embrace, rubbing her back in reassuring circles. She takes deep breaths to calm herself, determined not to let a single tear fall. He's right. Regret is unprofessional.

"You'll be alright, you know. You're a strong woman. You'll pick up, and you'll go on. Just like you always have."

"But as who? If I'm not M…" she shrugs.

"Then we'll just have to get to know _Olivia_ a little better." He kisses her temple, nuzzling into her hair. "Won't we?"

Another sigh. They sit in silence for a few long seconds. For a moment he's afraid that she's shutting down again, but he can feel that she's not as tense as she was, which he takes as a sign that things are, in fact, moving in the right direction.

Her voice softly drifts up to his ears. "And how do you propose we do that?"

"Well… what was something you always wanted to do, but never had the time for?"

He feels her shrug. "I did enjoy gardening, but I don't think I stuck with it long enough to really determine whether or not I was any good at it."

He smiles and gives her a gentle squeeze.

Feeling his arms around her makes her smile, too, despite her rotten mood.

Leave it to James to be the one to make her see reason.

"We'll start with gardening and if you think of anything else, we'll add that to the list as we go? How does that sound?"

"It sounds wonderful," she smiles. She reaches up and tries to discreetly dab at her eye.

"Good." He finds the wall clock and nudges her up so he can stand. "It's not terribly late, I think the shops are still open."

"What- now?"

He offers his hand to help her up, which she accepts. She eases herself off the floor and tries to smooth the wrinkles out of her blouse.

"Sure. Why not?"

She chuckles. "Alright, then. Just give me a minute and then we can go."

He plants a soft kiss to her forehead and waits patiently by the door as she gathers her purse and coat. She pauses to look into the small, gold-framed hallway mirror and runs her fingers through her cropped white hair, giving it an edgy, untamed sort of feel. He referred to it as her 'bedhead', though he suspected she didn't like the term. He begins to wonder what her hair actually looks like when she wakes first thing in the morning…

Her gentle tug on his arm breaks into his daydreaming. "Come on, then."

"All set?" She gives a single nod. "Well, then. After you, milady."

She giggles and steps out of the door ahead of him.

Once he's certain the lock is secure, they make their way down the stone path and out to the pavement where James' personal car was parked next to the curb. He insisted they take his car instead of the company vehicle as he wanted as few similarities between her holiday and her work life as possible.

She walks around to her side and hears the signature chirping sound as James unlocks the doors.

"Now, I know you're trained to kill, but you do realize the purpose of gardening is to make sure the flowers stay _alive_, correct?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "Are you implying that your thumb is greener than mine?"

"I'm not implying anything…" She opens the passenger door. "I'm saying it flat out."

She smirks and ducks into the car, leaving James gawping on the sidewalk.

He chuckles as he opens his door and climbs in beside her.

Once they get on their way, he peers over at her.

She's looking out of the window, but of course she always knows when he's staring.

"Eyes on the road, 007."

He smirks and turns his attention to the view in front of him. "Yes, ma'am."

He steals one last glance at her and his smile widens even more.

'_She's back._'

She snorts at the silly grin spreading across his face before turning her attention back to the green of the trees whizzing past her window.

She takes a deep breath and lets herself enjoy the ride, confident that things would be okay.

She would be okay.


End file.
